Smoke Curls Up.
Our Own Clouds.
Red Sun Drops.
Bugs In Crowds.
Day Is Done.
Fields Are Plowed.
Hear Anything?
Probably Not Yet.
See Anything?
Only The Dim Flickers.
If Candle Light Will Comfort
Then You’ll Be Safe
For The Winter.
I Finally
Saw The Sun
This Morning
Illusive Basturd
That He Is
But The Roads Aren’t
Clear Yet
And Neither Is My Head.
Words Don’t Come
Easy
And I Find Myself
Lost
In The Deep Winter
That Hurts
My Spirit
And Dulls The
Light
And
Hope